The Newroom is down the street from The Ivy on Robertson. If you’re eating on Robertson, you’re there for a reason: you want to be seen. It is an indisputable fact. Why hang out with the paps when there are so many other, and better!, places to eat in West Hollywood?

So here’s Gerard Butler yesterday after lunch at the Newsroom, photographed by several outlets, perhaps because he’s finally achieved a slight improvement on the way he wears his pants. He’s still rockin’ a little bit of a Moose Knuckle, yes, but still… these aren’t entirely unfortunate. If not for the cheesy white shirt tucked in just so with those equally blinding white trainers, he’d almost pass for normal.

Small steps.

Sorry ladies. I don’t think I’ll ever get there. I’ve seen Dear Frankie. Dear Frankie lasted maybe a month. And then Dear Frankie wore off. Dear Frankie was replaced by beefcake cheese, bad pants, and spittle.

Have you ever watched closely the way Gerard Butler speaks?

Was stuck on a flight from Zurich a couple of weeks ago. Couldn’t sleep and the only movie I hadn’t seen on the entertainment device was PS I Love You. Sweet Xenu, that was painful. More painful than breaking my arm. And there’s Gerard, all verbose and loving, and suddenly something started bothering me more than Hilary Swank’s horse teeth…and it was the fact that Gerry’s teeth line up top and bottom. An almost underbite. And this might be the reason for over-moisturisation of his mouth. But whatever the cause, I could almost hear the spittle gathering in the corners. Spittle doesn’t quiver my loins.

He does seem like a lovely, sweet man though. I just don’t want to f&ck him, is all. This is ok, right? Please forgive? And for the legion of Gerry mad fans out there, and judging from last time I know you are out there, curb the crazy today, would you? After all…it’s Friday!

Photos from